"Not real?" he murmured, his voice barely audible. "It was real to me, Aryl. Every touch, every moment."
He stepped back, arms falling weakly to his sides.
But before Aryl could respond, Shayla's voice rang out—sharp and commanding.
"What is happening here?" she asked, stepping toward them.
Her brown hair flowed over her shoulders, and her eyes narrowed, taking in the scene—Vigg's trembling hands, Aryl pinned against the wall—something was clearly off.
Both Aryl and Vigg startled, flinching in place as they turned toward her in panic.
"Mother," Aryl said softly.
She took a deep breath and stepped away from the wall, smoothing her gown awkwardly. She looked at Vigg, then back to Shayla.
"Vigg here seems…"
She couldn't finish her sentence, the words freezing in her throat.
Shayla's brows furrowed, her gaze sharpening as she stepped closer. "What…?" she asked, her tone firm but laced with a mother's concern, her eyes flicking between her children.
